


Seeking Rest

by MissE



Category: Buffy the Vampire Slayer, NCIS
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-04-08
Updated: 2011-04-07
Packaged: 2017-10-26 07:59:49
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 16,820
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/280663
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MissE/pseuds/MissE
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p><b>Disclaimer:</b> Don't own or claim rights to Buffy or NCIS</p><p><b>Notes:</b> This takes place several years post 'Chosen', and is not Season 8 compliant. This will be slash, the relationship being Xander/Gibbs.</p>
    </blockquote>





	1. Seeking Rest

**Author's Note:**

> **Disclaimer:** Don't own or claim rights to Buffy or NCIS
> 
>  **Notes:** This takes place several years post 'Chosen', and is not Season 8 compliant. This will be slash, the relationship being Xander/Gibbs.

Gibbs settled onto the barstool, and looked around him. It was dark here, and quiet, which is why he liked it. None of his team knew about this place. Not even Fornell, pretty much his only friend, knew about this bar. It was just a bar, but it was quiet, and it was unknown, and that was all Gibbs needed from it.

He glanced at the man sitting to his right, playing with a shot of some unknown liquor. Shoulders hunched, head down, he looked like a man sunk in his thoughts. He debated within himself, then shrugged. "Come here often?" he asked quietly.

The other man started, and turned to look at him. Gibbs frowned when he saw the other man's eyepatch. "Hey, didn't mean to startle you," he offered.

The other man shook his head. "My fault," he grimaced. "Not used to having people talk to me in places like this. Name's Xander," he offered, holding out his hand.

Gibbs shook the hand, and returned his own name. "It's a bit rough," he agreed.

Xander snorted. "Yeah. Rough." He shook his head. "I spent two years in Africa, where I was the only white man for hundreds of miles. They called me 'the crazy white fella,'" he grinned. "This," he waved, "is nice."

Gibbs raised his eyebrows. "Africa. That is rough. What were you doing there?"

"Might be easier to say what I wasn't doing. I wasn't running drugs, gems or weapons. Um... I wasn't training militia, or fighting in any of the asinine wars going on over there. What else wasn't I doing?" he frowned. "Ha!" he announced. "I sure as hell wasn't eating any Twinkies!"

Gibbs grinned. "A long way from civilisation, then?"

"Then I went to England. No golden, creamy goodness there, either," he groused.

"And now you're back? Sounds like the bar in front of you should be full of them. Or their empty wrappers."

Xander shook his head. "I get back, find the nearest shop, and buy a box of them. Stuff one in my mouth, and swallow. Five seconds later, I'm puking the whole damn thing back up. My wonderful, fulfilling time in Africa, it seems," he admitted through gritted teeth, "means that I can no longer tolerate the _blessed_ things."

"Ah, hell," Gibbs shook his head, grinning.

"Yeah, yeah," Xander grunted. "Yuck it up." He shifted on his seat. "So what's your war story?"

"Me? Never had much of sweet tooth. Of course, I had to live on MRE's in Iraq, and nobody on God's green Earth can tell me _they're_ food," he snorted.

"No, no," Xander agreed. "I've done my time with MRE's and I'm right there with you on that."

Gibbs looked around. "You want to go to a table? That way you don't have to turn around like that all the time."

Xander looked at the man for a moment, before nodding. "Yeah. Could do that."

That agreed, the shifted off their stools, and found a booth at the back of the bar. After a moment's hesitation, Gibbs let the other man take the seat with the best view of the door, and slid around so he could at least see most of the bar and near the door.

"So what did you do in Iraq?" Xander asked.

"Marine Corps."

"Semper Fi," Xander offered.

"You were a Marine?" Gibbs asked, puzzled. The man had to be in his mid-twenties, and could have served, but something didn't seem right about that.

"Nah. Knew someone, though. I think he was in Iraq, too. '90-'91, right?"

"Yeah."

Xander nodded. "He was into explosives. Taught me everything I know," he grinned.

"Sniper," Gibbs offered.

Xander considered that, and nodded. "An important position. It's always good to have someone around who can lower the odds before you engage face-to-face."

"You never served?"

Xander stilled, and looked at Gibbs, as if weighing his options. "Not in any country's armed forces," he murmured.

"Or militias, or rebel groups?" Gibbs asked, thinking back to what the younger man had said earlier.

"I have never gone to war against any man, woman or child," he said carefully.

Gibbs looked down at his drink, then back up to the man across from him. "That is a remarkably specific statement," he observed. "Makes me to wonder what exactly it is that you're leaving out."

Xander sighed. "What I do is … acknowledged, but only at certain levels, and under certain conditions. I cannot talk about it. Any laws I do break are tolerated by the countries I break the laws in, because they know what I do, and why I do it. I have killed, but only ever in defence of self or another. I don't expect to live forever. Hell," he snorted, "I'm seriously surprised I'm still alive now." He shrugged. "What I do is important. Too important to talk about. Important enough for me to die, if that's what it takes."

"I'm surprised you're telling me even this much," Gibbs frowned.

"I like your eyes," Xander decided. "You can tell a lot about a person from their eyes. Yours tell me you could be a right bastard if the situation called for it, but your people trust you, don't they?"

"Yep."

"You live your life by your own rules, and you look after your own."

Gibbs nodded. "You're pretty good at reading people."

"I lived in a war zone, even though I didn't know it, growing up. You … pick up things. I see things, and not just people. Probably the only reason I'm still alive."

"You sound like you grew up in California. What part of there is a war zone?"

Xander shook his head. "It doesn't exist any more, thank God. Our own little piece of Hell went bye-bye a few years ago."

"So what now?"

"The war goes on. Right in front of peoples eyes, and they never see it. It'd be funny if weren't so fucking sad."

"I don't understand," Gibbs shook his head.

"Don't. Don't try." Xander sighed, and looked around. "Look, it was great talking to you, and all, but I need to get out of here. I need to find … someone."

"Anyone in particular?"

"Someone to fuck," Xander returned baldly. "Male, female, don't care. I just need to … stop thinking for a while, okay?"

Gibbs looked at the table-top, and thought about something he'd done, though not often. "What about me?" he asked.

"Don't ask, don't tell?"

The older man shrugged. "If you just want an anonymous face, I'm not the one to ask. If you want true love, I'm not good for that, either," he half-grinned. "Three divorces and counting," he added. "But..."

"I'm not up for a comfort fuck," Xander warned.

"Neither am I. There's a name," he snapped his fingers, trying to recall. "One of my team referred to it."

"'Friends with benefits?'"

"That's the one," Gibbs agreed. "So. Interested?"

Xander looked him over again, this time considering him as a lover. Fit, attractive, and with some experience with men. A warrior like himself. A hard man, someone he didn't need to hide from, apart from the obvious. Someone he could be free with, even more so that his girls, or Giles. "Yeah," he agreed softly. "I'm interested."

"You got a place?"

"Hotel room, not far," Xander nodded, and the two men stood, and drained their drinks. Together they left the bar, Gibbs automatically going to Xander's blind side. The made small talk until they reached Xander's room.

Xander turned to Gibbs. "How much experience do you have?"

"Not much. Only fucked. Never been fucked."

Xander chuckled. "Now why doesn't that surprise me?" he asked, teasing.

Gibbs snorted. "Oh, I don't know. Maybe it was the purple tutu and fuzzy slippers I was wearing."

Xander laughed, then closed the gap. Reaching up, he cupped Gibbs face. "I don't care which way I go. Either way is fun for me. If you're not comfortable on the bottom, I'm fine with that," he murmured before kissing the other man.

Gibbs reached up and threaded his fingers through the other man's unruly waves before deepening the kiss. He tasted Xander's whisky and searched the reaches of the younger man's mouth before breaking the kiss. "You got stuff?" he asked.

"In my bag."

Releasing the other man, Gibbs shrugged out of his jacket, and then his shirt, before toeing off his shoes. He turned to look at the younger man, and watched as he, also, shrugged out of his jacket. He walked over, careful to appear on Xander's right side. He glanced down a the side-table, and nodded at the supplies, before returning his attention to the young man before him. He unbuttoned Xander's shirt, and removed it, before tugging his undershirt up and off. He frowned when he saw Xander's chest. "That's a lot of scars," he murmured.

Xander flinched back. "We don't have to do this," he offered, dropping his head.

"Hey," Gibbs shushed, cupping Xander's cheek, pushing him up to look him in the eye. "I'm just stating a fact. That's a lot of scars. It makes me wonder just what the hell you've been doing, and for how long. It doesn't turn me off." He ran his hand down Xander's shoulder and arm. "It shows me you're a survivor."

Xander huffed. "They say scars make girls hot. Never seems to work for me."

Gibbs gave up on words at that, and stepped forward, running his hand through Xander's hair again, and kissed him, slow and deep.

Without further words, they undressed and tumbled onto the bed. Gibbs rolled Xander onto his back, and nudged his legs apart before settling between Xander's thighs. Xander groaned when Gibbs shifted, and brought their cocks together. He drew his knees up, planted his feet on the bed, and thrust back up against the older man. Gibbs growled, and grabbed Xander's hip to hold him still as he lined their cocks up, and rocked.

Xander tossed his head back. "Fuck, yeah," he groaned. "More. Want you in me," he ground out.

Gibbs reached out and found a condom, which he opened and rolled onto his own aching cock, before grabbing the lubricant and squeezing a good amount onto his fingers. "You want this?" he asked.

"Oh, fuck, yeah," Xander moaned.

Catching the younger man's lips, he reached down, and began to work a finger into his entrance. Xander moaned, and rocked against him, working the finger in deeper. "Easy there, soldier," Gibbs warned.

"No patience," Xander panted.

Gibbs shrugged, and worked another finger in while he latched onto Xander's nipple. Xander's restless hands ran over Gibbs' back and shoulders, scratched lightly through his scalp, and started again. Gibbs worked quickly, Xander's desperation clear. He found Xander's prostate, and rubbed, causing him to buck and yell. Smirking, he worked three fingers in, and rubbed again.

"For fuck's sake, Gibbs, just do it, will you?" Xander demanded.

"Pushy bottom," Gibbs teased before tugging at his nipple. Still, he pulled his hand out, and coated his dick before lining up with the hole, and pushing in.

Xander groaned, and writhed languorously while Gibbs slowly pushed all the way in. He laid his head on the younger man's shoulder, and rested a moment, revelling in the feel of the tight channel. Soon, Xander began to shift, and ran his hands up Gibbs' back.

"When you're ready," he murmured.

Gibbs rewarded him with a kiss, and a withdrawal before a hard thrust. Xander arched his back, and threw back his head, grinning. Gibbs grabbed the younger man's hip again, and began to thrust in earnest. Resting his head against Xander's shoulder again, he set up a punishing rhythm. Deep thrusts, finding and hitting the prostate with agonising regularity, it wasn't long before Xander was lost.

Nails scraped against skin, enough to mark, not enough to break, while the two men panted and moaned. Hard muscle shone as sweat accumulated. Gibbs released Xander's hip to reach between them and grasp his cock. With almost desperate fervour, he stripped the other man's cock, wanting to bring him off.

Suddenly, Xander felt his balls draw up and his gut tighten. His head dropped back again, as his body bucked up, and he cried out hoarsely, shooting out over their bellies and chests. With a loud groan and a muffled curse, Gibbs succumbed in reaction to Xander's orgasm, thrusting hard into the other man. Several thrusts later, he collapsed, panting, waiting for his heart to slow.

Xander's hands resumed their long caress of Gibbs' back, no longer hurried by passion. He smiled. "Thanks," he whispered.

"No problem, Xan. I got your back."

He reached up and stroked Gibbs' face. "Yeah. You do, don't you?"

"Yeah, I do."

Smiling, Xander nodded, then sighed. He shifted, and Gibbs to it for a sign, and pulled out, taking care of the condom. He removed it and disposed of it before returning to the bed. Xander reached out, and pulled him down on top of him. "Apparently I snore," he confessed. "Just hit me when I do that."

Gibbs smiled. "Fine." He reached down and pulled up the covers.

Xander reached for the light. "Night."

"Night, Xan."


	2. Back Again

Gibbs and Tony were walking back to the car when the older man got a call. Thumbing the call button, he gave his name.

“Uh, hey,” a man's voice came. “I don't know if you remember -”

“Xan,” he murmured, smiling. Catching Tony's eye, he signalled for the other man to wait while he walked off for some privacy. “Of course I remember you. You back in town?”

“Just for a few days. I was just kind of wondering if you wanted to meet up?”

“I'm on a case at the moment, so I don't have much time -”

“Oh, hey, no. That's okay. I understand,” Xander interrupted quickly.

“Said I don't have much time. Didn't say I didn't have any time for you,” Gibbs countered.

“Oh,” Xander murmured. “Right.”

Gibbs smiled. “Look, Xan, I've got to go now. I'll call you when I get off, okay?”

“Yeah, sure,” Xander grinned. “Any time. I move around so much I pretty much just sleep whenever I get anything like horizontal.”

Gibbs snorted. “Remember what that's like,” he nodded.

“Okay. So. Later”

“Later, Xan,” Gibbs promised.

Tony waited until they were both settled, and Gibbs was driving, before he spoke up. “Who was that?” he fished.

“Old friend just flew in to town for a few days,” Gibbs dismissed.

~~~~~

Gibbs knocked on the door, and waited for Xander to open it. When he did so, he was treated to the image of Xander, fresh from the shower, with only a towel wrapped around his waist, using another to rub his hair dry. He grinned as he ran his eyes over the other man's body.

“Hey, Xan,” he murmured as he slipped through the door. He kicked the door shut, slid his arms around the younger man's waist and kissed him. He tugged the towel off, and dropped it to the floor, then ran his hands over Xander's back, feeling the hard muscle under his hands. He ran his fingers down the other man's spine to cup his hands around the other man's firm butt, before running a finger down the cleft to tease the tight hole. He revelled in the feel of the hard man under his hands, and the needy noises rising from his throat. Finally he broke the kiss, and examined his work. He saw the lush, bruised lips, and the wide, dark eyes, and grinned in accomplishment. “Bed,” he growled.

Xander's breath hitched at the command, and he grinned, an expression that went straight to Gibbs' cock. The older man had to force himself to look away in order to undress, but as soon as his clothes were somewhat neatly draped over a convenient chair, he was at the bed, staring down at the recumbent man smirking up at him, cock hard, and resting on the rippled stomach.

He climbed onto the bed and settled between the strong thighs, before reaching up and tweaking a flat nipple. Xander gasped, and pushed up into the touch. Gibbs claimed the open mouth, and kissed the other man until he ran out of breath. He reached out with one hand to snag the lubricant while he nibbled and sucked a trail down Xander's body. Reaching his lover's groin, he ran his tongue up his hard cock while he squeezed some gel onto his fingers.

Gibbs took the head of Xander's cock into his mouth, and Xander writhed and groaned. “Damn, Gunny,” he whispered as he splayed his legs further. Gibbs began working on the tight hole, wanting to open the younger man up quickly but carefully. Xander shifted restlessly, and ran his nails over Gibbs scalp. He wanted more. He ached for more, for the strength of the man leaning over him. To be filled, to be held by strong fingers on his hips. Memories of his previous visit combined with the deft touches of the current moment, and felt like he was going to go insane if Gibbs didn't just hurry up and -

He panted, and opened his eyes to see smug blue ones looking down at him. “About damn time,” he grinned.

Gibbs raised his eyebrows. “You disapprove of my technique?” he snorted.

“Only in that you're not doing any of it,” Xander pouted.

Gibbs withdrew and thrust back in. “That better?”

“Fuck, yeah,” he moaned, grinning. “More of that, thanks.”

Gibbs leaned down for a quick, hard kiss. “Not a problem, Soldier,” he murmured before turning his attention to giving Xander 'more'. Immediately, his world shrank to thrusts, and grunts, and Xander's restless hands running over his arms, and shoulders, and chest. Wide, dark eyes would flutter closed, and Xander would arc his head back to expose a strong neck. He watched the younger man underneath him, amazed that he could reduce someone so strong to this writhing mess of need, seeking fulfilment from his own, much older, body. Xander didn't seem to complain about the two-plus decades between them, and he wasn't about to make an issue of it. Hard, muscled thighs around his waist, and an eager, responsive lover beneath him made for a heady experience, one which he couldn't keep going forever. Or much longer at all.

He shifted his weight onto one arm, and reached between them to take Xander's purpling cock into his hand. He stroked it lightly, relishing the aching hardness covered by the silken skin. An anguished moan brought him back to the present, and he began stroking harder, in time with his own strokes into the tight body beneath him. He was panting, and he let the trickle of sweat sliding down his spine distract him, until Xander bucked up suddenly beneath him, coming hard, with a shout. He gasped at the clenching of Xander's body around him, and struggled to keep thrusting into this hot, tight body, but felt the spiralling ache push him over the edge, and he could only follow Xander into ecstasy.

“God, Xan,” he groaned hoarsely.

Xander chuckled tiredly. “Yeah.”

He waited until he had caught his breath before pulling out and disposing of his condom. He brought back a wash cloth, and gently cleaned Xander, before turning his attention to his own body. Once satisfied, he tossed the cloth back to the bathroom, and settled down beside the other man.

He began tracing over old scars he remembered from Xander's last visit, but stopped at a shiny, pale pink patch over his left hip. “This new?” he asked.

Xander twisted to check out what Gibbs was talking about. “Oh, yeah. Rome,” he added. “Down in the catacombs.”

“It looks a little like a burn,” Gibbs commented neutrally.

“Acid burn. I just about had to strip down to my shorts, but that was all I actually got on me.” He snorted. “Story of my life,” he added, disgusted. “I go to all these amazing places, and spend most of my time underground. In Rome, it was the catacombs. In Paris, it was the old sewer system. Did you know they actually do tours of the Paris sewer systems? It's sick, I tell you,” he made a face.

“And you being there wasn't?”

“That was business,” Xander dismissed. “These people do it for pleasure.”

“Well, I guess there's that. So what business do you have in the Parisian sewers and the Roman catacombs?”

Xander sighed, and slumped back onto his pillow. He stared at the ceiling for a bit, trying to figure out how to explain. “What I do is so very not of the normal. Think about your freakiest case, the one where, no matter what you do, you just can't find a reasonable explanation for it, and that's the kind of thing I deal with all the time.”

“So how do you find your answers? If there's no reasonable explanation?”

“That thing Sherlock Holmes said? 'When you have eliminated the impossible, whatever remains, however improbable, must be the truth?' Turns out there's a lot less of the impossible out there than just about everyone realises.”

Gibbs frowned. “So, what? Ghosts? Aliens? You going to tell me Elvis is alive, and living in Roswell?”

Xander burst into laughter at that. “No, no idea about Elvis. And I hope to God we don't get aliens. I don't need any more stress, thank you very much. No, it's more... Vampire cults, and people doing occult rituals, and weird wild animal attacks. Stuff like that. That,” he added, twisting to show off the new scar, “came from something's I'm-going-with-mouth, 'cause I sure as hell don't want it to have come from the other end. 'Cause that's just 'ew',” he grimaced.

“So you're fine with me coming in you, but not some random beastie?”

Xander's eyes dilated again, as his breath hitched. “Hell, yeah.”

Gibbs smirked. “Glad to know it, Xan,” he growled.

Xander slipped a hand around Gibbs' neck, and pulled him down for a deep kiss. Tongues tangled, and groins thrust together slowly as Gibbs' hands roamed over Xander's body. Finally Xander pulled back. “Much as I would love to get started on Round Two right now, you need to get up in the morning, and that's,” he twisted to check the clock, “a lot closer than it should be.”

“It's Saturday. Don't need to get up early.”

Xander chuckled. “Yeah. Right. So that's a six o'clock wake up, is it?” he asked, eyebrow raised.

Gibbs slapped his hip. “Ha ha.”

Xander just laughed.

“Fine,” Gibbs sighed. He rolled onto his back, and settled himself while Xander switched the lamp off, then rolled onto his side to face the older man.

“'Night, Gunny,” Xander sighed, already drifting off.

Gibbs reached up to brush his knuckles across Xander's cheek. “'Night, Soldier,” he whispered.


	3. House Guest

Gibbs checked the phone display, and smiled when he saw the name. "Hey, Xan," he greeted.

"Hey, Gunny," Xander returned, and Gibbs decided he sounded tired, but happy. "Uh, can you tell me what the time is? 'Cause I'm in Europe right now, and I still suck at this time-zone thing."

He laughed. "It's nearly midnight, Xan."

"Shit," Xander muttered. "I really suck at this stuff. And what are you doing up at this time of night. You need to actually sleep, remember? You know, horizontal, in a bed, not doing naughty things with someone like me? Or, you know, not so much like me?"

"Working on my boat. It relaxes me."

"Oh, yeah. That's right – the boat in your basement. How are you going to get that out of there again?"

"Trade secret," Gibbs grinned. "Is there something you needed? Or did you just want to rack up the dollars calling international? 'Cause I can help with that, you know."

"Nah," Xander dismissed. "Will's hooked us all up with some really great plan which may or may not involved pulling airtime out of the ether," he explained uncertainly. "She's way brilliant at this stuff, and I just kind of zone when she gets started. You know, just nod and smile."

"I usually just yell at people to tell me it in English."

Xander laughed. "Yeah, well, you weren't trained by a little red-haired girl from Kindergarten, were you? I am so whipped. But at least they're not doing the 'Buffy and Will' show right now," he shrugged.

"'Buffy and Will show?'" Gibbs frowned.

Xander groaned. "Yeah. It even has it's own theme song, called, 'Let's Keep Xander Fray-Adjacent!' It's for when they get on a protective kick, and decide that my job is way too dangerous for me, and I should do something safer. Like hang around the school 24/7. Please! Hang around a boarding school of hormonal teenaged girls? Having to discuss things like 'feminine hygiene products' and how many gallons of what flavours of ice cream and chocolate to buy each week? Give me a nice, fun death match any day," he groused.

"I would have thought that was every young man's dream," Gibbs teased, and he fancied he could hear Xander shudder over the phone.

"Gods, no! I spend enough time with the girls when I drop into Cleveland or London. Poor Andrew and Robin are stuck with them, but I'm willing to let Robin fall on his sword for me. After all, he has Faith to look after him if the girls get a little … rambunctious."

"And Andrew?"

"Oh, he's formerly-evil, so he needs to rack up the karma points. Besides, he really kind of fits in at the school, so it's not too bad for him. And I so do not want to end up as another Andrew, so I'm doing my best to stay away from the schools as much as possible."

"So why do they keep trying to shove you out?"

Xander sighed. "'Cause they're the experts, and I'm the grunt. The grunt that they love very much, and who keeps getting hurt because he does a very dangerous job. They love me, and they hate seeing me get hurt, which I get, really I do, but why can't they get that I do what I do because I choose to do this. I chose this job. It didn't choose me. And I'm damn good at it."

"You all do the same job?"

Xander shrugged. "Same but different. Buffy mainly sticks to Europe and England, sometimes coming to the US for big things. Willow's got her school in England, and goes down to South America from time to time, does stuff in Europe and America, too. I'm the one that spends a lot of time in Africa. I actually kind of like it there. Sometimes, when I'm out on the plains, and I'm by myself, and I can hear the hyenas hunting. It's peaceful. I like it."

"The sound of hyenas hunting is peaceful," Gibbs repeated doubtfully.

Xander chuckled. "Yeah. I know. I kind of got to know a clan matriarch back in high school, and I've always had something of a thing for them ever since. A weird, creepy, don't-want-to-go-there-again thing, but still..."

"You know, I don't think I've ever heard anyone use language quite like you do," Gibbs mused, smiling.

"Tell me about it! I got into this stuff through a mythology study group back in high school. The guy leading the group was the school librarian, and it gets worse!"

"Worse?"

"He's all tweed-guy, with the tea and crumpets, and 'why can't you speak English?' Except when he's going all 'Ripper', which is entirely another story."

"So you've been torturing a well-educated Englishman since, what, high school?"

"Yep. He went to Oxford, and even worked at one of the museums over there, until there was some family thing, and he moved out to California, er, 'for his health.' He was forever lamenting about the state of the American educational system, so it was kind of 'put up or shut up.' Plus side? I can now read enough Sumerian to understand 'don't touch.'"

"You speak Sumerian?"

Xander put on a haughty voice. "No one speaks Sumerian. It's a dead language." He chuckled. "Yeah. Made that mistake a few times. Hey, I just looked at the clock, and it's got to be getting on for one o'clock. You seriously need to get to bed, Gibbs."

"You trying to get rid of me?"

"No. I just don't want you complaining tomorrow about how tired you are because some crazy Cali kid kept you up all hours."

"I don't complain. I just drink lots of coffee."

"You do that anyway, don't you?"

"Lots more coffee."

"Sheesh. Okay, off to bed with you," Xander ordered. "I even give you permission to think about what we got up to last time I was there."

"I do," Gibbs murmured, voice dropping low. "Often."

There was silence for a long moment, then Xander cleared his throat. "I have got to go get back there," he muttered. He waited for Gibbs to stop laughing before he continued. "Okay. 'Night Gunny."

Gibbs looked at the boat, then went to put his tools away. "'Night, Soldier."

* * *

Tony stared after Gibbs as he headed for the lifts. "He's in a really good mood. Ziva," he demanded, "why?"

"How am I supposed to know?" she asked indignantly.

He scowled at her, then spun to glare at Tim. "McGee. What do you know?"

"Nothing," the younger agent yelped. "I just thought he had an extra coffee on the way into work."

Tony turned to glare at where Gibbs had just gone. "I don't like it," he muttered.

* * *

Gibbs checked the screen of his phone, and smiled. He got up from his desk as he answered, heading for the windows looking out over the Navy Yard. "You mess up the time zones again, Xan?" he grinned.

"Nope. Just flew in," Xander replied, smile evident in his voice.

Gibbs took a sudden breath as he felt a familiar tightness in his belly. "You booked in anywhere?"

"Nope. When I said I just flew in, I meant that I have just left customs, and am still walking through the terminal."

"Stay with me," Gibbs offered.

"You sure, Gunny?"

"Yeah."

"Okay. You do realise that I don't know where you live, though, don't you?"

"What? Willow hasn't given you my entire package yet?" Gibbs teased.

"Yeah, well, I'm sure she has all that stuff – you know what she's like – but I figured that if you wanted me to know stuff, you'd tell me."

"They giving you a hard time about it?"

"Eh," Xander dismissed. "Buffy keeps complaining about me getting involved with the military, but I keep telling her that Riley was Army, while you're a Marine. Much better," he decided.

"You better damn believe it," Gibbs grinned.

"Hoo-rah, Gunny," Xander agreed, grinning.

"You know, I really want to meet that Marine you knew," the older man decided. "Seems like he did you a lot of good."

Xander sighed. "He's dead, Gibbs. Died a few years ago."

"Pity. So you staying with me, or do I have to traipse all over to some hotel to see you?"

"Are you kidding me? Of course I'm staying with you. I've only got a couple of days this time, 'cause I'm sort of avoiding Buffy and Will at the moment. I've got a flight to Jo-burg on Thursday, which sucks, 'cause it means you're working while I'm here, but there you go."

"I'll just make sure I have some extra coffee at work."

"So you going to give me your address, or do I have to try to hack Will's unhackable system?"

Grinning, Gibbs gave Xander his address, made his goodbyes, then hung up.

Tony watched as the obviously happy man returned to his desk, and scowled. Something was obviously up with Gibbs, and he was determined to find out what.

* * *

Ziva made her way quietly through the darkened house to the basement, where she'd seen a light shining. When she got there, she found a much younger man than expected, shirtless, with loose jeans hanging on his hips, and much-too-long dark brown hair brushing his shoulders. He was working on Gibbs' boat in much the same manner as the older man might. She quickly drew her pistol, and trained it on the stranger.

"You know," he began, "in a house this quiet, even Mossad agents make noise when they're coming in, Ziva."

She gasped. "How did you know who it was?" she asked, concerned.

"He could smell your perfume," Gibbs explained from behind her.

Ziva whirled to face the older man, trying to understand how he could have snuck up behind her.

"Was there something you wanted?" he asked pointedly.

"Just to talk. But I did not know you had a houseguest," she shrugged. "It does not matter. We can talk tomorrow, maybe." She turned back to look at the other man, who hadn't stopped what he was doing at any point. Apart from the scars she could see on his back, and basic information like height, weight and hair colour, she had nothing to identify him with. He hadn't turned to face her at any point during the short conversation. "Well. I shall just leave you with your guest," she nodded, and turned to leave.

Gibbs followed her out. "You're sure you don't need anything tonight?"

"No. I was just driving, and I noticed your basement light on, so I came in. If you had told us you had a guest, I would not have intruded."

"He's an old friend, just in town for a few days."

Ziva nodded. "Well. Good night, Gibbs."

"'Night, Ziva."

He watched her drive off, then closed the door, and retraced his steps to the basement. He paused at the top of the steps, and looked at the younger man. He walked down, and over to his lover. He wrapped his hands around Xander's waist, and slid one hand under the loosened waistband, reaching down to cup his balls in his hand.

"Couldn't sleep?" he murmured into Xander's neck.

Xander moaned softly, and dropped his head back on Gibbs' shoulder while pushing against his hand. "Didn't want to disturb you," he murmured.

"Then you were stupid. Feeling better?"

"Yeah." He looked at the boat skeleton. "I'd love to see her when she's done."

"I'll make sure to take photos when I'm done. Come to bed," he urged, rolling Xander's balls in his hand.

"Can't exactly move at the moment," Xander smirked, not shifting an iota.

"Really?" he whispered into Xander's neck. "Why not?"

"You've got my balls in your hand," he grinned.

Gibbs gave one final squeeze before removing his hand from Xander's jeans.

"I wasn't complaining," Xander pouted.

"Didn't think you were. But I'd rather move this upstairs." He slapped the other man's butt before heading for the stairs. "Come on."

"Race you," Xander called as he slipped past and bounded up the stairs, two steps at a time.

Gibbs grinned at the other man's enthusiasm. "As if," he muttered. By the time he got to his bedroom, Xander was naked, and splayed on the bed, stroking his hardening cock slowly. Gibbs stopped and held his breath, appreciating the very fine view.

"Like what you see?" Xander asked, voice deep and husky.

"Hell, yeah," Gibbs agreed, shrugging out of his t-shirt and shorts as he walked over to the bed. "Hands and knees," he instructed. He quickly rolled on a condom, and grabbed the lubricant. He squeezed a good amount into the hollow of Xander's spine, causing him to shudder, then crawled onto the bed behind him. Grinning, he ran his hands up Xander's back, trailing his thumbs along the spine. At full stretch, he ran his fingers up into Xander's hair, while his cock slid forward to rub up against the younger man's balls. Xander canted his hips to increase the contact, but Gibbs chose that moment to move back, pressing his fingers into firm flesh as he did so. Xander whined at the loss of contact, and Gibbs smirked, running his hands over his lover's body, always ensuring he hit nothing too sensitive.

"Gunny," Xander moaned. "For fuck's sake!"

Gibbs chuckled, but took the hint. He ran his fingers through the pooled lubricant, and turned his attention to Xander's entrance, working a finger in to loosen him up. Xander grunted, and pushed back onto the invading finger. Gibbs worked quickly, and soon had a second finger inside him, twisting and scissoring. A third finger was worked in, and he reached for Xander's prostate, earning him an appreciative groan.

"In," Xander grunted. "Now."

Gibbs was more than ready to obey at this point, so he simply coated his covered cock, and pushed in smoothly until he was fully engulfed by Xander's welcoming hole. This was rewarded by a long groan, and a shudder. Taking hold of Xander's hips, Gibbs began thrusting, working at a steady pace to drive his lover over the edge. He watched as the younger man moved under him, watched as muscles bunched and smoothed, and listened to the needy sounds Xander made, pleas for 'more', and 'harder', and 'deeper'. He reached around, and took Xander in his hand, and pumped in rhythm to his thrusts, and Xander's head tossed up as he moaned his pleasure at that development.

With one hand gripping Xander's hip tightly, the other rapidly stripping his aching cock, Gibbs dropped his head onto Xander's back, and panted as he kept going. He was getting closer all the time, but prided himself on his ability to stave off his orgasm until Xander had finished. It seemed to get harder all the time, though, and he could feel it, tightening inside him, until Xander jerked, and cried out his nickname. He, himself, was bereft of speech as his vision seemed to narrow, and he shuddered to completion, almost losing the strength to support himself. As it was, he was barely able to pull out and toss the condom into the bin before collapsing on the bed beside the younger man. He looked up into Xander's eyes, and grinned, then reached up, and stroked Xander's cheek. "You're going to be the end of me, Soldier," he murmured when he had his breath back. He rubbed Xander's bottom lip with his thumb. "But what a way to go."

Xander chuckled, then looked at the bed below him in disgust. He disappeared into the bathroom, and came out with a towel, which he threw onto the mess. "I'm too tired to deal with that," he commented. "I'll deal tomorrow, okay."

"Fine by me," Gibbs nodded. "I ain't going anywhere just now."

Xander slid into the bed, and moved closer to Gibbs, slinging an arm across the older man's waist. "'Night, Gibbs," he murmured.

Gibbs reached across and smoothed a lock back from Xander's face. "'Night, Xan."

* * *

Ziva waited until Gibbs disappeared into the lifts before jumping up and slipping over to Tony's desk. She perched on the edge, and wriggled until Tony gave in and asked her what was wrong. "Gibbs has a houseguest," she informed him smugly. "He said he is an old friend, but he didn't look that old."

"'Old friend doesn't necessarily mean a friend who is old, just someone you've know for a while. So how old would you guess him to be?"

"Younger than Timothy, I think. Though I didn't get a good look at him. He never turned around to face me," she pouted.

"So what did you see?"

"Hm... Maybe one hundred and eighty or one hundred and eighty-five centimetres, maybe eighty kilograms. He had a number of scars on his back that I could see, and he heard me come in, and knew who I was," she frowned.

"Okay. Height and weight translations for those of us in the real world?"

"Six foot, one-eighty pounds," Tim offered.

Tony rocked back on his chair, and frowned. Something was going on, and he didn't know what it was, and he wasn't happy about it. Not happy at all.


	4. Surprise

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **Notes:** This, kiddies, is the exposition chapter. Can't really think of a way around it, so here it is.

Gibbs walked into the living room to see a lanky form lying face-down on his couch. He was dusty, and his hair was lank, and looked longer than ever. Gibbs decided he must have simply walked off the plane, got here, and crashed. "Xan," he called out.

Xander jerked awake, and pushed himself up off the couch. He sat up, and scrubbed his face before turning to face Gibbs. The older man frowned, and reached to stroke the left side of Xander's face. "Shouldn't you take that out before you sleep? A glass eye doesn't seem like something you should leave in. Glad you got one, though. Ducky said it was better for your socket if there was something in there to support it."

"Uh, yeah. About that," Xander shifted uncomfortably. "Thing is..." He gnawed on his lip for a moment, then went on, "It's real, Gibbs. I have two eyes again."

Gibbs dropped down on the couch beside him. "How did that happen? I mean, it's a really good match, but I didn't think they did eyeball replacements. Is it experimental, or something?"

"Um, more of an unexpected side-effect, actually."

"What the hell happens that gives you a new eye as a side-effect?"

Xander sighed, and dropped his head. "Okay. I'm going to have to explain pretty much my whole life from sophomore year of high school, and, I'll tell you right now, it's way with the weird."

Gibbs stared at him for a moment, then stood. "Give me a moment," he muttered. He went to the kitchen, and returned with two beers. He handed one to Xander, and began drinking the other. "Okay. Talk."

Xander took a breath. "First thing I need to tell you is: magic is real. It's how I got my eye back, and kind of why I didn't get it back any earlier."

"Magic," Gibbs repeated.

"Just go with it, okay?"

Gibbs thought about it for a moment, then decided to go with it, as requested. "Fine."

"So. Magic is real. So are vampires, demons, hell, heaven, and a lot of the gods. Demons were here before we were, big ones, old ones. So powerful, we couldn't possibly defeat them. But the Old Ones were pushed out of our dimension a long time ago, about the time humans started making their presence known. It's said that the last of them bit a human, and shared blood, making the first vampire. To this day, vampires are referred to as half-breeds by other demons."

"So why don't we see them?"

"They hide. The ones you get in places like DC, New York, LA, they tend to be older, more powerful, and have ways of getting around things. A lot of them have ties to certain law firms, who protect them. In Africa, they still believe in magic and demons, in the old gods and stuff, and so things are a little more … open, I guess. Back in Sunnydale, though, there was the Hellmouth, and, well, it just drew them in. All the big bads would come to town, and try to open the Hellmouth. We had just about yearly apocalypses."

"So that mythology group in high school?"

"You'd be surprised just how much mythology, even fairy tales, reflect reality. Once, back in … 2000, I think, the whole town was silenced. They quarantined us, and the CDC declared it to be a laryngitis epidemic. Which appeared overnight, affected one hundred percent of the population, and disappeared after a few days, without any after effects whatsoever. Apart from the people who died from having their hearts ripped out of their chests by The Gentlemen. That was a fairy tale, and they were defeated exactly as the fairy tale said they would be. Of course it didn't go into specifics like the fact that their heads would explode, leaving goo all over Buffy's clothes. She was not happy about that," Xander grinned.

"Vampires?"

Xander turned solemn. "I lost my best friend to a vampire. Kind of," he frowned. "Jesse was grabbed by Darla, favoured Childe of The Master, a vampire who was trapped under the Hellmouth. They were setting up for a ritual called 'The Harvest' and grabbed both Willow and Jesse. We managed to get both of them out, first time round, but then there was a fight, and they got Jesse again. We went back the next day, but he'd already been turned. He was going to turn me, but we got out of there, and since it was daytime, they couldn't follow us out of the tunnels. That night was the Harvest, and they had taken over The Bronze – a local club for the school kids – and... Long story short? I was standing there with a stake in my hand, and he was going on about how he was strong, and powerful, and no longer a loser, and someone bumped him forward, onto my stake, and … and he was dust," he finished in a whisper.

Gibbs reached out and slipped his hand around Xander's neck, and pulled him close for a hug.

Xander stayed in Gibbs' arms for a while, then sat up again, rubbing his face. "It was a long time ago, but... I still remember it, you know? And no one ever talked about him after that. No one ever did. Kids went missing all the time, and no one ever talked about it. Our graduating class had the lowest mortality rate of any in the history of the school. Found that out on Prom night, when they gave Buffy the 'Class Protector' award," he smiled. He looked at Gibbs, who sat there, rigid, unbelieving. "Yeah. Not that the teachers were immune, either. Lost our science teacher pretty well straight after Buffy arrived – that was Ms French, the praying mantis demon, who was going to use me and this other guy to fertilise her eggs before killing us. Um... Principal Flutie was killed by the rest of my pack after we were possessed by primal hyena spirits that same year. Ms Calendar was killed when Angelus came to town. He was a master vampire. Darla's Childe, as it happens. Two hundred and forty years old. Plus how old he was when he was turned. The school counsellor was killed by a guy doing a Jekyll and Hyde thing. He also killed his girlfriend and a few other people before he died."

Gibbs sat and stared at the floor for a few minutes. "This seriously happened?"

"Why do you think I have so many scars? How do you think Sunnydale fell into the ground? We closed the Hellmouth, Gibbs. Permanently."

"How did you lose your eye?"

"Actually, that was pretty mundane. Hurt like hell, but that actual mechanics? Bastard just poked it out with his thumb. Nothing mystical about it."

"He … what?"

Xander made a gouging motion with his thumb. "Called me the One Who Sees, said I saw too much, and wanted to know how well I'd see if I didn't have any eyes. Spike rescued me before he could make it a matched set."

Gibbs took a deep breath, then stood up. Pushing his shoulders back, he headed for the liquor cabinet, and collected a bottle of bourbon and two glasses. He poured out two hefty serves, and capped the bottle again. "So how was magic the reason you couldn't get your eye fixed?"

"Willow. She's one of the most powerful witches in the world, but when she lost Tara, she went a little … crazy. Bad stuff happened, and it ended with her trying to end the world. She actually had her version of good motives for it. She could feel everyone's pain. All the pain of all the world, and she just wanted to make it stop. So she went out to Kingsman's Bluff, and poured all her power into the task of raising a certain temple that was buried out there. Once it was fully raised, that would be it for all of us. I got in the way. I told her that if she was going to end the world, she had to start with me. She owed me, 'cause I had loved her forever. So she poured her power into me. Those three marks right here?" he asked, running his fingers over the scars under his shirt. "That was from her. Thing is, when she did that, she made me immune to her power. To anyone using power like hers, actually. So when the dust settled after Sunnydale, and she tried to fix me, she found she couldn't. No one could. None of the healing magics could. At least, none that didn't involve anyone losing their souls, or anything like that. We didn't try the other stuff."

"So how did you get your eye back?"

"Remember how I said I got possessed by a primal hyena spirit?" When Gibbs nodded, he went on. "I got the matriarch, the alpha, the leader of the pack. She was exorcised, but the possession left a taint on my soul, my aura. Well, my last job was in Kenya, where I was supposed to pick up a Slayer. Uh. Haven't explained that part of the story. Sorry. Anyway, the tribe weren't about to just hand over a twelve year old girl to the crazy white guy until they'd had their local witch doctor's approval. Which involved a ritual that was long, and agonising, and involved hyena bits and pieces, and ended up with me with a shiny new eye. Everyone was surprised, me not least of all. I'd been told there was no way I was getting my eye back, and then bang! There it is."

"How?"

"Turns out the stain on my aura interacted with the ritual, since the hyena bits were from a host to a primal spirit. Since I'd had the matriarch, it … interacted," he waved helplessly.

Gibbs tossed back the rest of his drink, and sat there. Finally, he turned to Xander, and took his face in his hands. He ran his thumb over the skin under Xander's new eye, and stared at it. He leaned forward, and kissed the eye, then sat back. "So. Willow is this all-powerful witch. What's Buffy?"

"The Slayer. One girl in all the world. Except, not so much any more. End of sophomore year, there was this prophecy saying that she would face the Master, and that he would kill her. Which she did, and he did. Except that I didn't think we should just take this stupid prophecy lying down, so I bullied Angel into taking me to the Master's lair. She was lying in a pool of water. I pulled her out, and gave her mouth-to-mouth, and she came back to us. Thing is, once a Slayer dies, a new one is called, and Buffy did actually die. Kendra was the next Slayer, except that we still had the old Slayer. So now we had two Slayers. Two girls in all the world. Kendra was killed by Drusilla, Angelus' Childe – are we noticing a pattern here? And Faith was called. Stuff happened, mostly bad. She ended up in jail."

He sighed. "Anyway, in '03 something called the First Evil came to town. It was big, bigger than anything we'd ever faced before. And it was going after the Slayer line. It had Caleb, the guy who did this," he added, waving to his eye, "send his bringers after all the potential Slayers. Killed a whole lot of them, but we managed to save some of them, Giles brought them to Sunnydale. We trained them, but until they are activated, potential Slayers are just that: Potential. They are no stronger than any other girl. So we did. We activated them. We were right at our limit, and there was nothing left, and the big fight was still coming. So Willow did this spell, and activated all the potentials on the planet. Some two hundred and thirty-odd women and girls. And since we activated them, it became our responsibility to train them. Let them know what had happened, and what their shiny new calling was."

"So that's what the schools are about?"

"Willow's schools are for magic users, so they don't make the same mistakes she made. But our other schools, four of them now, are for the Slayers. Ones who are still going to school have the opportunity to board at our schools, free of charge. Those that don't want to still have to come to Summer camps. The adults can come for a few weeks, and finish their training at home, with a Watcher."

"A Watcher?"

"Someone to support and train the Slayer. They 'watch over' the Slayer. Unfortunately, we have way more Slayers than Watchers, now, so we've been putting the Slayers into teams of five Slayers, one or two Watchers, and a witch or two if we can manage it. It's worked so far, and our Slayers have gone from a life-span of about one year post-chosing before Buffy, to, well, we've only lost twenty-eight since '03. Thirty since Buffy's calling, if you include Buffy, herself. Thirteen years, Gibbs. Surprised I made it so far," he added quietly.

"Ever thought of getting out?"

"And do what? It's all I know. I used to be a carpenter, but then I lost my eye, and there's no call for one-eyed carpenters, so I let that slide, jumped feet first into the life. It's all I know."

Gibbs nodded, then stood. Ignoring the second drink still sitting on the table, he held out his hand to Xander, and hauled him to his feet. "You need a shower, and a rest. Let's go."

* * *

Gibbs walked up to Tim, frowning. "McGee," he began, "I need you to do something for me, but it's personal, okay? It's not for a case, or anything, it's for me. And I don't want you to say anything to Abby about this, okay? Or anyone, really."

"Okay," Tim drawled uncertainly.

"I want you to find out what you can about Sunnydale, California."

"The place that sank into the underground caves a few years ago?"

"That's the one. Find everything you can about it, okay?" He went to leave, then turned back. "And Alexander Harris, aka Xander Harris. See what you can find out about him. He was a student at the high school there, late nineties, I think? He was there until it went down."

"Okay," Tim nodded. "I'll let you know what I find out."

* * *

"I have to get back," Xander began. "I have to... I have to go to London. Tell the others about my eye," he shrugged.

"You haven't told them?" Gibbs asked, surprised.

"I just got on a plane and came straight here. Actually, that's not right. I dropped Winda off with a Watcher in Nairobi, and then hopped on a plane here."

"Have you even told your friends?"

"Uh. No?"

Suddenly, all the misgivings Gibbs had had about Xander's big tell-all the previous night simply melted away. He stepped forward, and cupped the younger man's face in his hand. Xander's eyelids fluttered closed as he sank into the touch. Gibbs slid his hand around further to tangle in Xander's hair, and kissed him. Xander moaned as he opened his mouth to the older man, and wrapped his arms loosely around Gibbs' waist. Gibbs broke the kiss, and rested his forehead against Xander's. "I guess we'd better make the night last, then," he smiled.

* * *

The night felt different from their other times together. Instead of the sometimes-frenetic pace, they seemed to move together with a quiet assurance. Gibbs maintained eye contact as he sank into Xander's body, and, though the younger man's hands moved continually over Gibbs' body, they didn't feel as restless or desperate. Instead of grunts, there were sighs, and languid stretches rather than insistent writhing. When his completion came, instead of coming hard and fast, it wound up slowly in his gut, drawing him tight until it washed over him, and he threw his head back, crying out Xander's name. And when they slept, it was with Gibbs' arm around Xander's waist, legs tangled together, and the younger man pulled snug against the older man's body.

* * *

Gibbs was working on his boat when he heard someone enter the basement. Looking up, he saw McGee hovering on the landing. "Got something for me, McGee?"

"Uh, yes," he said as he made his way down the stairs. "I got that information you asked for, about Sunnydale anyway. I haven't started on Mr Harris yet. Well, I did, but anything beyond a bit of school and medical history seems to be heavily classified and/or secured. Pretty much, I can't find anything from just before he graduated high school."

Gibbs' eyebrows lifted, but he then nodded, and cleared a space for Tim's laptop. "Well, tell me what you got, anyway."

Tim fiddled with his machine, ensuring he had it set up to his satisfaction before he started. "Okay. So Sunnydale is a very strange place. Or was. It disappeared, as you know, into that sinkhole back in 2003. Prior to that, it had a worse homicide rate than the worst parts of DC. Their rate of disappearances was very high, too, although both peaked about seven to eight years prior to the town's disappearance."

"That would be...?"

"Oh, um 1996 or '97."

"Do you know what grade Harris was in when that happened?"

"Uh..." Tim quickly opened a new file and checked something. "He would have been in sophomore year when it levelled off, and then the rates went down from there."

"So something changed in Harris's sophomore year?" Gibbs clarified.

"Er, yes. I would have to say, looking at the data, that that was when something changed."

Gibbs nodded. "Fine. Anything else you've got there about the town?"

Tim shook his head. "There was something hinky about the local LEOs. Their solve rates were atrocious, and the CODs that they listed were... They blamed things like barbeque forks, like, several times a week. I mean, there's only so many times you can blame something like that before you have to put out a warning. And wild animal attacks! Do you know how many people died of wild animal attacks? This town was only a few hours from LA, not exactly in the middle of unexplored wilderness, Boss. Or, or gangs on PCP. Between those three things, life in Sunnydale was more dangerous than Beirut."

"Barbeque forks, wild animals, and drug users. And nothing was done?"

"Not a thing, Boss."

Gibbs leaned back against the benchtop. "Okay. So what about Harris?"

"Harris. Well, he probably should have been removed from his home for child abuse. There are records of hospital visits that are way too frequent to be normal. Um. Those tapered off probably when he got too big to hit any more, high school. Then they started back up again, but this time he was being brought in by his friends. Uh. The adult who brought him in was usually a Mr Giles, who was -"

"His high school librarian?"

Tim stared at Gibbs for a minute, surprised. "Yes. A British national on a Green Card."

Gibbs nodded, and seemed to sink into thought. Finally, he looked up and smiled tiredly at Tim. "You did good, Tim. Thanks. And don't worry about the rest of it. I don't really need it now."

"Okay, well, let me know if I can do something else for you," he offered as he packed his laptop away.

"Will do."

Once Tim was gone, Gibbs fished out his mobile. When the call went to voice-mail, he left a simple message. "Don't be a stranger, Soldier."


	5. On The Job

Gibbs looked around the scene with a grimace. This was the third scene like this, and he was getting worried. This was the third Marine who had been torn apart by what appeared to be a wild animal in three consecutive months. He was pretty sure it was time to call Xander. He dialled the number he had memorised two years ago, and waited for the other man to answer.

"Hey, Gunny," Xander greeted happily.

"Hey, Soldier," Gibbs smiled. No matter what the circumstances, just hearing his lover's voice was enough to cheer him up.

"Um, correct me if I'm wrong, but isn't it daytime over there? Not that I'm not happy you're calling me, it just..."

"I've got a case," Gibbs admitted. "Pretty sure it's one of yours."

There was silence for a moment, then Xander responded. "Tell me about it."

"We've had three Marines killed by what looks like wild animals. They're all torn to pieces, looks like they've even been eaten. Thing is, I haven't heard of anyone else being attacked like this. Just the Marines."

"What period?"

"Three months. One each month."

"Huh. You're on the scene right now?"

"Yeah."

"Look, uh, I'm going to have to call you back. I need to make a call or two, and my brain's not working too well at the moment."

"Ah, shit," Gibbs muttered. "I didn't even think to ask where you are."

Xander chuckled. "I'm back in Africa. But don't ever think I won't take your call, Gibbs. I'll always have time for you."

Gibbs smiled. "Okay. Call me when you're ready."

"You guys be careful, okay? If it's what I think, you need to be careful about getting transfer into open wounds. Also make sure you don't back anyone into a corner. It's better to let them alone until we get there."

"Will do. You take care now, Xan."

"It's me, Gunny."

He grinned. "Exactly."

* * *

Gibbs marched into the Director's office, and dropped down into one of the chairs opposite his desk.

"Agent Gibbs," the Director greeted, determined not to reward the other man's behaviour.

"Leon," Gibbs nodded. "Just wanted to talk about our current case."

Leon blinked. "You do?"

"Called someone about it. They'll probably be sending someone over to check it out. May take the case off our hands."

Leon stared at the older man for a long moment, then asked, concerned, "Do I need to get Ducky up here?"

"Only if you want to discuss the particulars of the case."

"You're here telling me that you have invited someone from outside NCIS to look at an active case – without my clearance, I might add – and that they might take the case from you, and," he shook his head, "you're not arguing about it?"

"If it's what I think it is, I don't want it," Gibbs declared.

"You..."

"Just thought you should know," Gibbs added, then got up and walked out, leaving the stunned Director staring after him.

* * *

Tony looked up to see three people approaching. The two men he quickly dismissed, focussing his gaze on the sexy brunette walking between them. He gave her his best grin, and stood to greet her. Before he could speak, however, she began talking.

"DiNozzo, right?" she smirked. Looking around, she nodded at the others in turn, "McGee, David, and Gibbs?"

"Uh, yeah," Tony nodded, surprised. He then noticed that the taller man was walking over to Gibbs, hand outstretched, while Gibbs seemed surprised, though happy, to see him.

"Xan. Didn't expect you to come."

"Please," the other man scoffed. "Miss a chance to get back to America?"

"Thought you liked it in Africa," Gibbs smirked. "The sound of hyenas hunting is peaceful, remember?"

"You playing with hyenas again, Xan?" the smaller man asked with a slight smile.

"Oh, no. Neither of you were there for that, so you don't get to give me grief about it," he objected, but Tony could see the smile quirking at the corners of his mouth.

"We going to get any introductions, Xan?" Gibbs asked.

"Oh, yeah. Forgot. Okay, so," he looked around at the team, "I'm Special Agent Xander Harris, and these are Special Agents Faith Lehane and Daniel Osbourne, aka Oz, and we're from the IGC. Gibbs asked us to look at your current case to see if it comes under our jurisdiction." He turned back to Gibbs, frowning. "That wasn't a secret, was it?"

"Nah. I've already cleared it with Leon."

"Cleared," Xander repeated sceptically. "Right. Okay, so you two know who everyone is?" he asked his own people.

"Five by five, boy-toy," Faith nodded.

"Yep," Oz agreed.

"Okay. So can we have a look at the evidence?"

Tim looked at Gibbs, waiting for the go-ahead. He hadn't missed the taller man's name, but needed Gibbs approval before he did anything. Gibbs gave an impatient nod, so he quickly brought up the files. "Three Marines, Corporal Frank Gomez, Master Sergeant Harry Klein, and Staff Sergeant Ken Talbolt were murdered, twenty-nine days apart." He brought up the images of the dead men, and the three IGC agents moved closer to inspect the images. "Um. As you can see, they were attacked by wild animals, and killed. We think they were also partly eaten by whatever it was. Ducky thinks it was some kind of dog, or wolf, or something. But big."

"Of course," Tony continued, "the real issue here is that it was only our people attacked. No civilians have been killed in the same manner for, well, we've gone back three years, so far. Sure, there have been animal attacks, but nothing really like these. And the period between kills is kind of hinky," he added.

"Hinky?" Xander asked, raising an eyebrow to Gibbs.

"Wigsome," the other man translated.

Xander grinned. "In all this time, I've never heard you use that term."

Gibbs shrugged. "Never had to." He frowned. "Do you need to see the body?"

"Would be good," Xander nodded.

Gibbs nodded, and led Xander's team to the morgue.

* * *

Oz was the first to react when they reached the morgue. When the doors opened, he stopped, and sneezed violently.

"Problem," Xander asked, backing the other man out of the room.

"Chemicals," Oz shrugged. "Wasn't ready for them."

Xander looked at him for a moment, then led the way in to the cool room.

"Ducky," Gibbs called out. "Got some people for you to meet."

The Medical Examiner turned to greet the new people, and smiled. "Welcome. My name is Dr Donald Mallard, but everyone calls me Ducky."

All three looked at him with delighted smiles. "Hey, Ducky," Xander greeted. "So what part of the British Isles do you come from?"

"Scotland, actually," Ducky replied, well pleased by the question. "Though I was did spend a year at Cambridge before completing my medical degree at Edinburgh."

"Ah. Giles was at Oxford. But then," Xander added thoughtfully, "he was always more into the humanities."

"Xan," Gibbs interrupted before the men could get too sidetracked. "The case?"

Xander blushed. "Heh. Sorry. You get used to daily doses of tweed-talk, and then it's gone, and you get withdrawal symptoms, and end up latching onto the first person with the right accent. It's pretty sad," he admitted, shaking his head.

"So. I'm Xander Harris," he introduced, "this lovely lady is Faith Lehane, and this is Oz, Daniel Osbourne, who is the person who needs to see the bodies."

"You're a medical examiner?" Ducky asked, interested.

Oz shook his head. "Different field."

The older man led Oz to the banks of drawers, and pulled one at chest height out. "As you can see, he was terribly wounded. Claw and teeth marks, caused by a large canine of some description."

"Oz?" Xander asked.

The slight man grimaced, then nodded.

Xander sighed. "It's ours. Oz, you think you can track the perp?"

"Like to see the scene first. I can track them tonight, though."

"You want to do that now, or do you need to wait?" Gibbs asked.

"Now's of the good," Oz nodded.

"Okay. I'll take you out while the rest of my team can assemble all the files for you."

Xander shook his head. "We only take the files when we're concerned that the agency concerned will keep going with the investigation. I know you're not going to do that, so you can keep the files if you wish."

Gibbs shook his head. "I want this stuff gone, Xan. I know you'll deal with it properly, but I don't want anything of it hanging around my office."

"Okay, then," Xander shrugged.

* * *

"Hmm..." Oz intoned. They were standing near the elevators, waiting for Gibbs to finish passing on instructions to his team.

"'Hmm' what, Wolfboy?" Faith asked.

"Mossad don't seem to know about me," he commented.

"Yeah?" she smirked. "Girly warning Xan's boytoy about him and me, is she?"

"You're dangerous, dangerous people," he nodded gravely.

"Cool."

"Would be better if you didn't mention certain relationships," Xander added, frowning.

"They don't know?" Faith asked, surprised.

"Nope. First time any of them have even met me. Except for when Ziva came to Gibbs' house that time. But she didn't see my face."

"He's hiding you?" Faith frowned, getting upset.

Xander shook his head. "It was never supposed to be... We were only going to be..." He sighed. "It kind of just happened, you know? And he's not exactly the type to go blabbing to all his besties. Not all of us have been trained, Faith."

"He hurts you, he's dead," she promised solemnly.

"Thanks," he smiled, reaching out to stroke her hair.

"We ready to go?" Gibbs asked. He was very careful to not allow himself to feel jealous of Xander's casual contact with the very attractive woman. He knew he was important to Xander, and he also knew that Xander had a number of women in his life. He'd even spoken about Faith, and he knew that Faith lived in Cleveland, with a man named Robin. It was just the touch of one friend to another, that's all.

The group was silent until they reached the car, where Xander raced for the driver's door, calling out that he was driving. Faith snorted. "Like you've let anyone drive you since -" her eyes darted to Gibbs., who was climbing in the front passenger seat.

"He knows, Faith," Xander smirked. "He's known me long enough to have noticed when it happened."

"So how'd that go, gramps?"

Gibbs shook his head. "Had my nice little world shattered. But at least Xan got his eye back," he added, smiling softly, and reaching across to stroke Xan's cheek. The move surprised even him, but he knew that Xander's friends knew about the relationship, and were comfortable with it, and that seemed to free him to acknowledge it physically. Xander's breath hitched at the touch, but then he smiled, and pressed his lips briefly against Gibbs knuckles.

Gibbs shifted in his seat, and tried to collect himself. "So what is it, exactly, that we're facing?"

"Werewolf," Oz answered.

Gibbs nodded. "How sure are you?"

"Last night was the full moon," Faith explained. "Weres actually change on the night before and after the full moon, too, but they're strongest on the full moon. Oz, here, is a were, but he has control of his beast, and changes only when he wants to."

"Is it hard?" Gibbs asked, curious.

Oz shrugged. "Got to work at it."

"Werewolves aren't on our automatic kill list," Xander added. "Many of them are like Oz, and just want to live their lives. When we find them, we offer them shelter and education, so that they can learn to control their beast, too, or at least keep themselves from hurting others during the change."

"This guy, however," Faith took up the thread, "is planning his kills. You'll probably find he's a Marine, too. Found out he was a were, and decided to take out his frustrations on those guys. Maybe they dissed him, put him on report, something like that."

"So you think he might have planned to kill those particular Marines."

"Makes sense," Oz considered. "There was this bitch who went after my girlfriend 'cause she wasn't a were. Wanted me to be free." He snorted. "Wanted me to be free to mate with her," he added sourly.

"'Bitch' as in female werewolf?" Gibbs asked.

Oz thought for a moment. "That too."

Gibbs smiled at the werewolf's response. Turning back to Xander, he asked, "I was curious: how did you get here so fast? You were in Africa just a few hours ago. I know it takes longer than that to fly that distance."

"Willow express," Xander grinned. "I didn't want to dump just anyone on you for your first time, so I asked -"

"Begged," Faith interposed.

"Willow to 'port me to Cleveland, where I picked up Faith and Oz, then Dawn 'ported the three of us to the Slayer house in DC."

Gibbs shook his head. "'Ported'?"

"Teleported. Actually it was portals, rather than teleportation, because that takes less energy for some reason. All it really means is that, instead of being taken from one place, and ending up in another, you kind of walk through a hole in space. Once side is Africa, the other side is Cleveland. You can actually see through the hole into the other room. Kind of neat," he grinned.

Gibbs looked at Xander for a moment, then shook his head, smiling. "I'll get you to pass on your thanks to Willow and Dawn for me. I'm really glad you were able to be here."

Xander flashed a smile at the older man. "Not a problem at all."

* * *

Xander propped himself up against the door frame. The adrenaline had worn off, and now all he wanted to do was to wrap himself around a certain silver-haired former Gunnery Sergeant. If more than wrapping occurred, so be it.

Gibbs looked up. "Go okay?"

"Guy's dead. We'll need to get an ID in the morning. Actually, we're thinking of letting you just take him as the fourth victim, and leave it as that."

"What happened?" Gibbs asked, mounting the stairs.

"Made the mistake of going for me." When Gibbs frowned, he went on. "Oz had already changed, and weres can pick Slayers, so I was automatically the weakest member of the pack." He shrugged. "He went for me, and Oz took him out. He's not happy that it went that way, but Faith and I totally support his actions, and he accepts that it was the best result in the circumstances. It'll go down as a clean kill in our records."

"And you're okay?" Gibbs asked, running his hands over his lover's body.

"Didn't even touch me." He wound his arms around Gibbs neck, and drew him close for a kiss. Breaking the kiss, he smiled. "Upstairs?" he suggested.

Gibbs pulled him closer, and ground their groins together. "I'd take you right here," he growled, "but I don't have any lube."

"Right," Xander murmured before pulling away, and taking Gibbs hand. Tugging, he asked, "So what are we waiting for?"

Xander pulled the far from reluctant Gibbs up to the bedroom, but once they were there, it was Gibbs in control, rapidly stripping first Xander, then himself, maintaining a constant barrage of kisses and strokes that threatened to drive Xander wild. Once they were both naked, Gibbs ushered Xander onto the bed, and began kissing and nibbling his way down Xander's body. Once he reached Xander's heavy cock, he began to lick it with broad swathes of his tongue. Xander muttered a curse, and arched up, but was pushed back down, and held in place by Gibbs' hands on his hips. Satisfied with his progress, Gibbs engulfed Xander's cock.

"Fuck, Gunny," Xander cried. "What are you trying to do to me."

Gibbs released Xander's cock with a pop. "Not trying," he corrected, smirking. "Doing." With that, he returned to his self-appointed task.

Try as he might, Xander couldn't hold off the rapidly approaching orgasm, and having tried to warn his lover, came hard into Gibbs' mouth. Xander was still panting from the orgasm when Gibbs moved back up, and kissed him.

"That was different," Xander offered.

The older man smirked. "I didn't want you to come too soon next time."

"Next time?"

Gibbs leaned down and kissed his shoulder. "Next time."

Xander shrugged, and decided to just go with whatever Gibbs had planned. And what Gibbs had planned, it seemed, involved a lot more fun. Gibbs' hands and mouth were everywhere, licking, kissing, teasing, pinching, rousing Xander once more towards a single goal. When Gibbs was satisfied with his progress, he reached for the tube in his top drawer. Having squeezed out sufficient lubricant, he began working on Xander's tight hole.

"Love the way your body feels," he murmured, working a finger in. "Love the way you look, the way you sound." He worked a second finger in, and Xander moaned.

"You're so damned good at this, Gunny," he sighed.

Gibbs smiled. "You inspire me." He closed his eyes and nuzzled and kissed Xander's neck, while he reached inside for Xander prostate. Finding it, he was rewarded by a loud groan, and a hand reaching for his own aching cock.

Groping, Xander found a condom, and managed to put it on his lover, and ran long, strong fingers over Gibbs' cock, just to make sure it was on properly, then grinned when he heard Gibbs' own groan pressed into the side of his neck. "Come on, Gunny," he whined. "Surely that's enough."

With a muttered expletive, Gibbs shifted to kneel between Xander's bent and spread legs. "I sure as hell hope so," he muttered as he liberally coated himself, before lifting Xander's hips, and pressing in.

Xander wrapped strong fingers around Gibbs' wrists, and watched his lover's face as he pushed his way all the way into his body. He grinned at the look of deep pleasure on the older man's face, and wrapped his legs around Gibbs' waist.

Gibbs smiled, and leaned forward to plant his hands on either side of Xander's shoulders. He pulled back, and thrust in. "Hey," he murmured.

Xander curled up, and kissed him. "Hey," he replied, then laid back down. He ran his hands up Gibbs' arms to the shoulders, and back down again, as Gibbs set the rhythm, and they worked together to achieve each other's pleasure.

Too soon, it seemed, and it was over. Xander arching up and crying out, strong thighs keeping Gibbs deep within as his tight channel worked around the almost-too-hard cock. Gibbs dropped his head onto Xander's chest, and pumped a few final times, and shuddered and groaned. He waited to catch his breath, then cleaned them up. Smiling, he returned to bed, and slid in beside Xander. Rolling onto his side, he pulled the younger man close, and pressed a kiss into his neck. "'Night, Xan," he murmured sleepily.

Xander reached back and stroked Gibbs' hip. "'Night, Jethro," he smiled.


	6. Coming Home

Gibbs picked up his phone, and gave his name.

"Agent Gibbs?" the man's voice confirmed before going on. "It's Jerry at Reception. I have a man here asking for you, but he refuses to give any ID."

"What does he look like?"

"Six foot, dark hair and eyes. He's given his name as Xander."

Gibbs felt as though his stomach had just disappeared. Xander wouldn't just turn up like that. He would call first. "What's his apparent condition?"

"Tired. Exhausted, actually. He may be hurt, too. He was moving a bit stiff, and he's just leaning against one of the counters at the moment. He won't let us check his bag, either."

"I'll be right down. If he's who he claims to be, he can come straight in without a check."

"Yes, Agent Gibbs."

Gibbs hung up, and walked out of the bullpen without another word, leaving three startled and confused agents behind.

* * *

When Gibbs got to Reception, he saw Xander, propped up against one of the counters, just as Jerry had said. His head was down and shoulders were slumped, and his clothes and hair were filthy. He waited until he was close before calling the younger man's name softly.

He was rewarded by Xander's head coming up. He opened his eyes, and stared at him tiredly. "Gunny?" he frowned. "Had to come. Couldn't go anywhere else. Need to see Ducky. Got to fix me up."

"Xan? What happened? Why didn't you go to a doctor?"

"Can't. Can't go to anyone but Council docs. Can't go to Council docs, 'cause they'll tell. Ducky?" he pleaded softly.

"Yeah. I'll take you to Ducky." With that, he grabbed Xander's bag, and led him past the security check-point. While waiting for the elevator, he quickly phoned the ME to let him know he was bringing Xander down for a check-up. Once he had Xander in the elevator, he asked, "What happened?"

"New Orleans. Fight. Was alone."

"You drove all the way from New Orleans just to get Ducky to fix you up? Why?" he demanded.

Xander shook his head. "Buffy and Willow show," was all he would say.

* * *

Ducky looked up to see Gibbs steer into his morgue the young man who had visited some months ago to help on a case. "Oh, my," he clucked. "What seems to be the problem."

"He's injured, Ducky, and he came all the way from New Orleans so you could fix him up."

"Why ever would he do that?" the ME demanded. "Surely there are suitably qualified medical practitioners in New Orleans. Or in any number of cities on the way here."

"I think he's only supposed to go to Council approved docs, and he had some reason for keeping whatever happened secret from the Council. I guess that's the IGC, though I've never been told what that stands for."

"International Guardians Council," Xander slurred. "Fix me?"

Ducky shook his head. "What seems to be the problem?"

"Back," Xander explained. "Scratched."

"Well, let's have a look at it, then," Ducky decided, and the helped Xander out of his jacket. "Oh, my," he murmured when he saw the back of the other man's shirt. "I'm going to have to soak this to get it off."

Xander shook his head. "Rip," he insisted.

"My dear boy," Ducky disagreed, "that very well may increase the damage to your back. We shall saturate the shirt, and ease it off. Mr Palmer," he went on, addressing the man who was hovering in the background, "would you please go to Abby and ask her for some blankets. Steel tables are all very well for those who no longer need to maintain homeostasis, but Agent Harris does not need the added stress to his system." That done, he busied himself filling a bowl with warm water, and procuring some sponges, leaving Xander to Gibbs' avid attention. Once he was prepared, he and Gibbs began to remove Xander's shirt, so that they could work on removing the portion that was glued to his back. With Gibbs supporting the shirt, and ready to steady Xander if necessary, Ducky began washing the blood away, and working the shirt away from the skin.

"Is there something I should know, Jethro?" Ducky asked quietly as he worked on Xander's back?

"He's mine," Gibbs replied with quiet pride.

"Really? I never knew you had a son. That would make him only a little older than Kelly, though, wouldn't it?"

To Ducky's deep surprise, Gibbs flushed. Not much, but still noticeably. "I didn't mean he was my son."

"What? Oh!" Ducky returned to his work, too surprised, for once, for words. Recovering, he went on. "I had no idea you were bisexual," he commented mildly.

"Never really considered myself to be that. Sure there had been a few over the years, but they were just one night stands, nothing really. Xander... He was always different." Gibbs shifted so that he could slip his arm around the other man's waist, and so Xander could drop his head on his shoulder. "Xander is very special," he added quietly.

"He appears to trust you a great deal"

"He does," Gibbs agreed, dropping a kiss onto Xander's head.

They worked in silence then, and Ducky had finished removing the shirt from Gibbs' back, and was drying him off when Jimmy finally returned, carrying several blankets. "Finally," Ducky remarked acerbically. "Oh, good, you have a few there. Very well, place one neatly on that table," he indicated, "then come and help me lift Agent Harris."

Working quickly, they managed to manoeuvre the almost unconscious man onto the table. Xander roused sufficiently to insist on no drugs, but agreed to the local anaesthetics that Ducky argued for. Then it was time to finally examine the wounds on Xander's back. It appeared to be one set of wounds, four deep scratches that ran from the right shoulder to the left hip, and were already inflamed. Ducky shook his head and tsked, then began collecting items, calling to Jimmy to collect others he deemed necessary.

Gibbs waited until he decided that Ducky had everything under control. Then he crouched down, and spoke quietly to Xander. "I'm going to go now. I'm just going to be upstairs, and Ducky will call me if you need me, okay? I just have some stuff that I have to do, and then I'll be back down." With that, he stood, gave Xander's hair a quick stroke, and left.

Jimmy observed the little scene, but, with unexpected wisdom, refrained from making any comment.

* * *

Tony looked up when Gibbs' phone started ringing. He looked around, but couldn't see the other man anywhere, so picked up the phone. "Agent Gibbs' phone," he introduced.

"Where is he?" a woman's voice demanded sharply.

"Agent Gibbs is not at his desk at the moment," Tony informed smoothly. "If you'd care to leave a message, I'll pass it on when he gets back."

"You tell that man I know Xander's there. He's always there when he drops out of contact," she complained. "You tell him to tell Xander to call straight away, you hear, mister? Or there will be black hair and veins," she threatened obscurely. "Ha! That'll get him calling." With that utterly indecipherable comment, she hung up. Tony stared at the phone for a moment, stunned, before he, too, hung up. Shrugging, he wrote a note as best he could, and decided that Gibbs could work it out. Or not.

It was a little over an hour later when Gibbs returned to the bullpen.

"Any messages?" he asked as he walked to his desk.

"Just the one," Tony frowned as he walked over. "Some woman called, didn't leave a name or number, but insisted that she knew Xander was here, because he's always here when he drops out of contact, and that you had to get him to call ASAP, or there would be 'black hair and veins,'" he quoted. "Sorry, Boss, but she hung up before I could get a name or anything, and the number was blocked."

Gibbs shook his head, and stood up again. "Don't worry. I know who it is." With that, he walked back to the elevators.

* * *

Ducky was still working on Xander's back when Gibbs returned to the morgue. He walked straight over to Xander's bag, and put it on a spare table. Opening it, he was not really surprised to see the weapons lying on top of Xander's clothes. He quickly checked the pistol, but it obviously hadn't been fired since it was last cleaned, so he set it aside. There was a long dagger covered in muck, and wrapped in an old t-shirt – he set that aside, too, planning to clean it. Rummaging through the bag, he found Xander's cell, or at least the only thing he thought could be the other man's cell, and pulled it out of its wallet to look at it. Apart from a button at the bottom of a large glass screen, and several buttons around the edge, he couldn't find anything to work it. Frowning, he turned it over, but then gave up, put it back into its cover, and carried it out of the morgue.

Stepping out of the elevator, he walked into Abby's lab and turned the music down. The scientist spun to view the interloper, then smiled broadly. "Hey, Gibbs. What's going on? I don't have anything for you, 'cause you haven't given me anything, 'cause we don't have a case. We don't have a case, do we?" she frowned.

"No, Abs, no case. I just need to know, first of all, if this is even a phone," he asked, handing the object over.

Abby flipped the wallet open, and smiled. "Yeah, it's an iPhone."

"So how do you get the damn thing to work?"

"Well, unless it's switched all the way off, or run out of battery, you just hit this button on the front," she demonstrated. "And if it is switched all the way off, you hold this button at the top down for a few seconds," she added when it didn't light up straight away. She waited for it to power up, then read the screen. "Huh. Lots of messages. Do you want me to read them?"

"Not necessary," he decided. "I need to phone someone called Willow Rosenburg. Can you set that up for me?"

"Sure," Abby chirped. She quickly found the name, dialled, and set the phone down on the counter-top. When Gibbs went to pick it up, she slapped his hand away.

"Xander? You are in so much trouble, mister. Serious trouble. Do you know how scared you got us when you simply dropped out like that? Big trouble, mister. Boxes of Godiva chocolates size trouble. Are you even listening to me?"

Abby looked at Gibbs with rounded eyes, and had to work at not laughing.

"This is Agent Gibbs, Ms Rosenburg," he began. "I got your message, and thought I'd call you straight away. Yes, Xander is here, but he was so tired when he got here that I told him to just go and lie down. He's sleeping, now, and I don't want to disturb him. I just thought you should know that he's fine, just very tired from his drive. I'll get him to call you when he wakes up, okay?" With that, he signalled for Abby to cut the call, which she did, and then turned the phone all the way off, the way it had been before the call.

"Wow," Abby murmured. "Who was that?"

"Xander's best friend from Kindergarten."

"Really? 'Cause she was sounding more like a wife. An obsessive, run-you-whole-life one, at that."

"He has a dangerous job, and they worry. They seem to think they know better than him how to run his life, which I think is why he came here instead of went to them."

"So who is he, anyway?"

"Oh, yeah. You didn't get to meet him last time he was here. He works for the IGC, and I called him in on those animal attacks a few months ago. His team managed to kill the thing that got those Marines, but it managed to kill one more the same night. They specialise in cults, the occult, and strange animals."

"Interesting," Abby murmured approvingly. "So where is he?"

"Down with Ducky, getting patched up."

"So not so tired? You're hiding things from his friends?" she demanded.

"He is tired," Gibbs argued. "So tired that he was just about sleeping on his feet. He drove all the way from New Orleans with his back ripped open by some animal 'cause he's concerned his friends will side-line him for good just because he got hurt again. Because he trusts me to look after him."

"'Cause you're a good friend," she nodded.

Gibbs gave her a small smile. "'Cause I love him," he said quietly.

"Wow," she murmured. "Wasn't expecting that. So you're serious? Both of you?"

"I'm serious. Think he is, too."

"So what are you going to do about it?"

Gibbs' smile grew. "Ask him to stay," he decided.

"Cool."

* * *

Gibbs decided he was being a busy little beaver today, but he wanted everything ready for when Xander woke up. He hadn't missed Xander's little comment about the 'Buffy and Willow Show,' and was pretty sure that they had gotten to the end of their patience with Xander's mortality. Xander, on the other hand, had made it clear to Gibbs that he wasn't at all happy with the thought of being pulled out of the field permanently. Much as he, himself, might appreciate the thought of Xander being safe and in one place (preferably DC) he knew Xander would hate it. There was, however, a compromise.

Smiling, he walked straight into the Director's office and sat down. Director Vance gave him a long-suffering look. "How may I help you, Agent Gibbs?"

"Do you remember Agent Harris from the IGC?"

"You brought him in a few months ago to work on that animal attacks case. What about him?"

"I want him on my team."

"He's working for another agency," Leon noted.

"Who are about to side-line him because he gets hurt in the field. Considering what he does, most people would be dead by now. He has no interest in flying a desk, so I'm pretty sure I'll be able to get him to agree."

"What do they even do?" Leon asked, shaking his head. "I mean, I've met Director Giles a couple of times, but I still don't understand much about them. They make the NSA look like a supermarket tabloid with their need for secrecy."

"They investigate cults, the occult, and strange animals, according to Xander."

"And that's dangerous?"

"Very."

Leon sat back in thought. "Okay. You know the entry requirements. Talk to him about it."

* * *

Gibbs was smiling when he entered the morgue. Xander was awake, and sitting on the table he'd been using as a bed. He still needed rest, and time to recuperate, but he was going to be well. Ducky didn't even think he'd need to take antibiotics, as it seemed he'd reacted well to the topical treatments he'd given while he was stitching him up. He reached his lover, and stroked his hair. Xander leaned into the caress, and closed his eyes.

"How're you going, Xan?" he asked softly.

"Tired. Sore."

"Better than before?"

"Well... I'm conscious. That count?"

Gibbs laughed. "Yeah, I think so. So you going to tell me what this was all about?"

Xander shrugged. "Buffy and Willow decided that the next time I get hurt, that's it, I'm out of the field permanently."

"Thought so," Gibbs nodded. "And there's no way you can do that, is there?"

"Hell, no, Gunny. I'd get bored way too easily, and a bored Xander is a dangerous Xander. Even more so than normal," he smirked.

Gibbs grinned in response. "So how about coming to work for me?"

"Here? At NCIS?"

"Here, at NCIS. My team."

Xander looked around the morgue, then asked, voice lowered, "What about 'don't ask, don't tell?' What about the fraternisation rules? And your own rules? I know you have one about dating your co-workers, and I'd rather work elsewhere and keep our relationship going."

"The team will know, and that's it. Not even telling Leon."

"Gibbs," Xander hissed. "I don't want you to get into trouble about this."

"You know how to keep things professional, and – God forbid it should happen – you know how to work with exes. I remember your stories about Cordy and Anya," he added, smiling. He sighed. "I want you where I can keep an eye on you. I'd go crazy if you were working in another team. This way, we can keep an eye on each other. Watch each other's backs. And you're not stuck permanently at a desk or, worse, at one of your schools."

Xander shuddered. "You know my weak spots, don't you," he pouted.

"Yep," Gibbs grinned. "So you interested?"

"Wow. You really think this would work?"

"Yeah. If you want, we could try it out first. Stay with me for a couple of weeks, a month, maybe. You can intern with my team, and that way we can see how it works when you're here for more than a couple of days, and you can get to see if you can do the work."

A big grin formed on Xander's face. "Yeah," he murmured. "That would be great."

"One more thing, though. Do you have a degree. Anything, really, so long as it's from an accredited college."

"Oxford count?"

"Oxford, England?" Gibbs asked, frowning.

Xander nodded. "Before we were the IGC, there was the Watcher's Council. When we took over after defeating the First, we inherited a lot of power. Then Giles decided I needed to have at least a Bachelors degree if I was going to be a Watcher, so he arranged for me to be accepted at Oxford. Don't get me wrong: I worked for my degree. Giles got me in, but I earned it. I got a degree in Classics, since we use the languages so much. Won't be so useful here, but it's still a degree, right? And I'm working on a Military Studies degree through Kings College when I get a chance. So is that any good?"

"Very good."

"So I can stay?" Xander asked, grinning.

Gibbs returned his grin. "You can stay. Of course," he added, "you've got to tell your friends."

Xander pouted. "Not nice, Gunny."

"Not meant to be, Soldier."

* * *

Xander looked up at his lover, and grinned. They'd been living together eight months, now, and still going strong. There were still times at work when Gibbs would smirk at him, and he'd want to push the older man into the elevator for a quick make-out session, but like Gibbs had said when he'd presented this opportunity, Xander knew how to be professional.

The girls had taken his decision remarkably well. It seemed that they had lost a great deal of connection to the mundane world, as immersed as they were in the mystical, and so they had decided that working at NCIS was immeasurably safer than his job at the IGC. It was safer, there was no doubt, but he thought they had exaggerated just how much safer it was. Giles had given him a look, then smiled, and wished him luck. He was still in contact with all of them, though the girls seemed to now treat him as a delicate 'normal', even more so than when he'd worked with them. They were determined to never call on him, now that he had a 'normal' life.

Living with Gibbs was even better than he'd expected. They had many similarities, between woodworking and a military mindset, since Xander's memories had only amplified since living with the other man, and their differences were manageable. Xander got on well with the rest of the team, also. Tony seemed a bit put out that Gibbs had taken a male lover, and Xander wondered, sometimes, if there wasn't an element of jealousy, but Tony had adjusted to the relationship, and all was well. Which was good, since Tony filled the rare side of Xander that Gibbs didn't. And McGee, Ziva, Abby and Ducky all reminded him enough of the good parts of his old friends, while remaining distinctively themselves. Maybe life could be better, but perfection was rarely attainable. What he had now was near enough.

"You going to come back to me?" Gibbs murmured, voice low and husky.

"I'm here," Xander replied, excitement curling in his belly.

"What took you away?"

"Think about us, about how good it's been since I moved in here."

"Happy?"

Xander pouted. "Could be happier."

"Really?" Gibbs demanded. He thrust hard into Xander's body, and the younger man threw back his head, arched into the thrust, and moaned loudly. "Better?"

"Hell, yeah," Xander whispered. "More?"

Gibbs smirked, and began thrusting in earnest, setting a hard pace, and working to hit his lover's gland as frequently as possible. He watched as Xander writhed under him, hair damp from sweat, eyes half-closed with desire, moaning, sighing, restless hands scraping at his back as he whimpered his name. He revelled in his power over this strong, handsome, caring man, and in the power this man had over him, to make him laugh, to make him moan, to make him -

"God! Xander!" he cried as he shuddered and came hard, his orgasm triggered by Xander's own orgasm, and the look of naked pleasure on his lover's face. He gasped for breath, shaking, and settled on Xander's broad chest to catch his breath, smiling as he felt the other man's arms wrap around him.

"Now that?" Xander murmured breathily. "That was way more than better. Better than better, Jethro," he grinned. "Think I'll keep you," he decided.

"You do, do you?" Gibbs teased.

"Yep. I surely do."

"Good. 'Cause you're mine, Soldier. For now and always."

Xander smiled, and stroked Gibbs' face. "For now and always, Gunny."

He had found a place to rest.


End file.
